I sit here wondering what life has in store for me in the days, months, and years to come.  Just two years ago at this same time, I knew Keith, my husband, and I had a life of taking care of a severely autistic child that within the next few years would more than likely have to be put into some kind of home for her own safety.  She was getting harder and harder to take care of and she kept escaping out of our house.  We knew we didn’t want to do this but we knew that the way things were going we would have no choice.  However, that decision suddenly became a non-issue when she became sick out of the blue a year and a half ago and then passed away.

So what once was a life constantly challenged by someone with autism whom we all loved more than I think any one of us could have imagined is now a life with freedom to do anything we choose.  What I do know is that if Mari had never gotten sick and then ultimately pass away, from something that I think still baffles every one of us, is I would have never started writing.  The journal entries I made into her CarePage online was that first step towards something I had no idea I would truly enjoy and love doing a year and half later.

I know there’ll always be critics and I know that I’ll never please everyone who reads either what I write or post.  But that’s okay.  This isn’t for anyone else other than myself.  However, if my writing can touch someone else’s life in either a positive way or somehow helps them, I can say that’s just an added blessing.

I’ve started thinking about how my writing can do more for others.  When Mari passed away, I went to the bookstore to try to find a book about how to get through my grief.  First of all, I never found a book on someone dealing with the loss of someone who died suddenly.  On top of that, it seems like all the ones I found where about guidelines on loss and how to deal with it but there were no books from others who just told their story and how they got through it.  I may not have grieved in the same way as the person who was writing but I would more than likely have been able to relate.  So what I would like to do is write a book that can be about this.  Whether anyone ever reads it or not I know that it’ll be very therapeutic for me.  It’ll just be an added bonus if it can help someone else out there.